Fragment of a Name
by Cirolane
Summary: Sam Winchester had never been just Sam Winchester. Pre-series.


**fragment of a name:**

**

* * *

**The envelope is heavy in his hand and he carries it around for a week before he even opens it.

* * *

Sam Winchester had never been just Sam Winchester. He had never been _that boy living in the house on the corner, you know the one dear._ He had never been_, get off my lawn, boy! And keep your grubby hands off my apples!_ He had never had to stand sweaty in front of his neighbour's door, afraid to ask for the cup of sugar his mother needed to bake a pie. Sam Winchester had never experienced any of these things.

Sam wasn't just Sam, because he was Dean n' Sam. They had always been Dean and Sam Winchester. Dean's name was irrevocably tied to his. If Sam knew one truth in the world it was this: Dean was his older brother. Sam was Dean's little brother. It was a fact that defined Sam's whole being. Sam Winchester was Dean Winchester's little brother. He was John Winchester's youngest son.

_He was a Winchester._

* * *

It comes in the mail. It's a wonder that it even managed to get to him, what with all their moving around. Sam knew it had been a good idea to give out Bobby's address instead of one of his ever changing ones. He hadn't asked the older man to keep it a secret, but he knew Bobby hadn't told his father yet. He left that task to Sam.

* * *

At ten years old, Sam's father gave him a gun and told him to aim for the empty bottle in the yard. At thirteen he hunted his first werewolf.

It hurt more than he could ever tell anyone that no one cared about all the normal things he was good at. Why did a good shot earn him a proud smile and a pat on the back, while his perfect math scores earned him nothing?

Dean did the best he could. He raised Sam when their father wasn't around to do it. It was Dean who comforted him after another bad dream filled with fire and blood. It was Dean who told him stories about their mother. It was Dean who did- everything. When their father lost his patience, Dean took the time to teach Sam how to shoot and fight. Without Dean, Sam doesn't know who he would have become.

Deep, deep inside, in a place he almost never visited, a place he ignored and almost didn't know existed, he resented Dean a little for always being there. What if Dean hadn't been around? Would Sam have been able to live a normal life then? Surely their father would never have allowed one kid to grow up almost on his own?

But such thinking was stupid and never lead to anything good. Sam loved his brother more than anyone else in the world. Dean was a part of him, a part of his very name. Because Sam was not just Sam Winchester. He was Dean and Sam Winchester. A fragment of a name, really. And most of the time he didn't mind; most of the time he was proud. Because his brother was the most amazing person he knew, and Sam was the luckiest kid in the world to have him as his brother.

* * *

Before a teacher had innocently asked him where he was planning to go to college, it had never occurred to him that that was an option. College was just not something Winchesters did. They hunted. They kept the world a safer place. There was no place for higher education in a hunter's life. But the thought festered and bothered him for months on end. _College. College. College._ There was nothing Sam loved more than to learn new things.

He could do it. He knew he'd be good at it

Another thought struck him when he was considering it. He could be anyone he wanted at college. He could be just Sam Winchester. Just a regular guy, with a regular life, hoping to learn things there like everyone else. A guy getting a college education, so he could get a regular job and make something out himself.

When the time came to send off college applications, he did it along with everyone else. He reasoned to himself that he didn't have to go, that it was just the sensible thing to do.

He probably wouldn't get accepted anyway.

* * *

On the seventh day the envelope is crumpled and almost unrecognisable from the crisp letter that Bobby had sent him a week ago.

Sam takes a long walk, clutching the letter in his hand. With sweaty palms he sits down on a log and opens it.

He made it in.

* * *

It takes him another month to decide if he should go or not. He always knew he would, deep down, but there are a lot of obstacles in the way. Dean and Dad for one. Could he really turn his back on them? Could he metaphorically spit on the life they've provided him and tell them that what they have isn't enough for him? Could he really let Dean down like that?

And the answer is, surprisingly, yes. Yes, he could. Because if he doesn't, he knows he'll end up resenting them as well, not only their lifestyle.

The fallout is bigger than Sam had ever imagined. His father tells him that if he walks out that door, he can forget about coming back.

Dean says nothing. Dean says a whole lot of nothing, and it unsettles Sam. He had expected him to rant and rave along with their father, but Dean says _nothing_. Just lets him go.

So Sam does. He goes.

* * *

At Stanford, Sam feels, for the first time, that he's found a place he belongs.

At Stanford Sam can be normal. Nobody knows who he had been and he never tells them anything when they asks.

Here he can be just Sam Winchester. Stanford is a place that has never heard about Dean and Sam Winchester; Sam can be just _Sam_. No one knows Sam has a brother, no one even knows Dean Winchester exists. It's exhilarating and depressing all at the same time. In the dark hours when Sam is alone he misses Dean, misses being part of a name. But Sam chose this with his eyes wide open.

There's no going back now.

_finis_.


End file.
